The Final Symphony
by Muggledog
Summary: Living with her parents undercover, Ginny Weasley hears a musical work, Tchaikovsky's Symphony no. 6 in B minor, that changes her life, recalling everything that has, and is, happening as she lives the final battle against Voldemort.
1. Overture, Adagio to Allegro non Troppo

PREFATORY REMARKS: Like another story of mine, this one contains highly experimental material, in this case, telling the story within the borders (all chapters are movements from the symphony and so on), and emotions conjured by, a standard four-movement symphony, in this case, Tchaikovsky's 6th, in B minor. A note to all you music people out there: I want to leave you in no doubt that I'm a musician as well, and I know VERY WELL that most symphonies, certainly all I've ever listened to, do not have overtures, however, in keeping with the theme of the story, an overture was necessary to establish back-story. Finally, I do not know for certain if the London Symphony Orchestra would have called the barbican home when this story takes place, though if I'm right in thinking that the final battle against Voldy would have been circa the mid 1990s I think they would have, but if I'm wrong, I do not mean to offend by listing the Barbican as the place where the LSO plays, and I beg you forgive me for seeming uninformed.

And now that these remarks are done, on to the story. Enjoy!

The Final Symphony

Overture

I'd never heard Muggle music before, until that night. The Order of the Phoenix, desperate for any and all measures of help, had ordered my father, my mother, and consequently, me, to go and live incognito in Muggle London, where we were to assume Muggle lives and secretly protect them from the dangers of Voldemort. Our job was simple: We had to live like Muggles, while secretly keeping all our eyes and ears out for any news of trouble caused by Voldemort or his Death Eaters.

It took us a while to get settled. Dad was in absolute heaven with his Muggle fixation, and he was now living surrounded by everything Muggle. Mum had to remind him time and time again why we were there. After a while, though, we began to settle down, as we settled in to our odd existence, and one Saturday night, Dad suggested we go hear the London Symphony Orchestra play.

"It's a big part of what Muggles call…er…culture," he had said. Mum and I did not find a good reason to disagree. The program contained a Piano Concerto (whatever that was) by a man named Brahms, an overture by another fellow named Berlioz, and wrapped up with a short piece by a Vivaldi. The centerpiece, however, was a symphony by a man named Tchaikovsky. Muggle music isn't drastically different from Wizard music, except that the main Wizarding composer, Bartholomew-Babbington, sounded like what Muggles called 'Baroque' music, so the Vivaldi was closest to what I'm used to.

But when I heard the Tchaikovsky, everything that had happen within the last few months, and everything that was going on and going to happen I heard within the solemn strains of his music. I've never had a more uplifting, shocking, provocative, spiritual or frightening moment as I did that night, seated in the Barbican.

Chapter One: Adagio – Allegro non troppo

"What if I don't care?" I asked him furiously.

"I care. How do think I'd feel if this were your funeral? And I was responsible?" I had known ever since that day after the Quidditch house cup when he kissed me, that Harry wouldn't keep me. I knew he wasn't interested in me. He thought he loved me, but he only fell in love with the idea of me. I tried my absolute best not to cry as I observed him chatting with Ron and Hermione by a large tree near the lake. I suppose I could let a few tears fall…everyone will think that I'm crying for Dumbledore…which I am; I've never trusted a man the way I trust Dumbledore…well, Dad is an exception, but even Dad doesn't have the powers or wisdom that Dumbledore has. I gave a lonely sigh, and got up, walking over to Hagrid, who was slowly starting to calm down, furiously drying his face with his handkerchief, though some of his mucous and spittle stubbornly remained in his tangled beard.

"Hi, Hagrid," I said, my voice constricted.

"'Lo, Ginny," Hagrid said thickly.

"Well…I think I'll be off," I said glumly.

"Leavin' so soon?" Hagrid asked generally, but with a note of concern in his voice, "Not gonna wait for yer brother an' Harry?" My face must have been very readable, for Hagrid's concern now was apparent on his face.

"He doesn't love me, Hagrid," I heard myself saying, and I could barely contain my misery any more. It was Dumbledore's funeral and the boy I loved broke up with me. "He doesn't care. He called it all off." I grunted, trying hard now not to weep.

"Codswallop," Hagrid said gently, "Harry still loves yeh, Ginny. I dun know why he broke it up with yeh, but I do know he's goin' through a rough spot righ' now. I 'spect we all are gun to go through th' same rough spot, too."

"He doesn't love me, Hagrid," I said again. Hagrid put a massive hand on my shoulder, but didn't say a thing.

"There you are, Firefly," I heard a soft voice say. I turned to see Dad standing beside me, smiling at me, "are you ready? Your mother and brothers are all set to go home." I noticed his eyes were as tired and drained as I felt, and I nodded.

"Take care, Ginny," Hagrid said, "and don' forget what I said, eh?" I nodded, though privately, I thought that remembering his words would bring little comfort.

I wasn't prepared for him to be right.

Summer vacation was upon us, and it was not like any other summer vacation I can recall. Ever since Dumbledore died, everyone in our house has been much tenser. Dad works all the time, and when he's not at the Ministry, he's off wherever Professor McGonagall lives, attending Order meetings. The twins stay at their shop most of the time, but always return for dinner. Percy apologized three days after we were all home, but many of us, myself included, are not quite ready to forgive him, only Mum seems to have forgiven him, and she's busy with the order, too, and when she's not, she's planning Bill's wedding. In fact, Bill seems to be the only truly happy person right now, knowing that his wedding is in six days.

I confess, I didn't expect the wedding to be any fun, but it was, mostly because we weren't just celebrating Bill's marriage to phlegm…I mean, Fleur, but just the fact that we were also celebrating the fact that, thus far, the war had not affected our family. Or any other family for that matter. It seems Professor—I mean, _Remus_—Lupin has finally gotten over his nervousness of the age difference between Tonks and himself…they look happy. Ron and Hermione seem to be happy, and by the way they are acting, it looks like my brother _finally _got off his arse and said how he felt about her, and I'm so happy for them, seeing how happy they are. The man who makes _me _happy is here too, but so far, I've avoided him. I don't want to talk to him, and so far, he's made no effort to talk to me, and he's been here since two days before the wedding. I don't care. Honestly, I don't. I _don't_!! But every time I look in his eyes…before I avert my gaze…I see something…like he wants to tell me something, but can't make up his mind. Sighing, I turn away, trying to think of something else. I knew that Ron must have told Hermione about his feelings, judging by how they were interacting earlier, and that Fleur, even with her Veela charm turned on full-blast (causing some...er…_intriguing _results from my brothers), couldn't get to dance with Ron. For the first time I felt sorry for Fleur, for it was apparent that she was not making unwanted moves on Ron, but merely wanted to bond with her brother-in-law. However much I knew through guesswork, however, didn't prepare me for the shock of Ron publicly announcing his affection at dinner.

If I had thought that Ron publicly announcing his love for Hermione was the evening's surprise, I was mistaken. After dinner, Harry cornered me while I was helping Mum with the dishes.

"Um…Ginny…can…can we talk?" He asked nervously. I glanced up at Mum.

"Go on, sweetheart," she said, smiling warmly at me. Shrugging to myself, I followed Harry out of the kitchen. I was surprised that he led me into my room. Gently he coaxed me down upon my bed, while he turned and faced the window for a few moments. Finally, he turned back to face me.

"Ginny…I think I have a good idea about how you must feel…about me," he said hesitantly, "I saw you with Hagrid."

"Really," I responded coolly. Did the git have _any _respect for my feelings or, apparently, my privacy? Harry grinned sadly.

"You must really hate me right now. I suppose I deserve it, somehow, but Gin, I want you to know that, however difficult it may be to believe, I did not use Voldemort coming after you as an excuse to break up with you because I didn't like you."

"Uh-huh. What was your reason, then?" I asked, trying to not sound bitter.

"Too many of the ones I love have died," Harry replied so softly that he was barely whispering, looking at the floor, "and believe me, growing up with the Dursleys insured that I never had any friends, so…meeting Ron and Hermione, and them becoming my friends was perhaps the best thing that ever happened to me. I love them so much, and I don't want them to come either, but…and well, you're different, Gin. I love you in a way that I don't love either of them…and Voldemort _does _use those who his enemies are close to…but I can't…I never thought that I could feel like this about anyone, Gin. For the longest time, I figured no one would even see me as anyone to…" he broke off, shuddering. "The point is, Gin, you are my reason to fight, but even so, I just can't face what might happen to you if you came along. I had to stand by when my parents died, and as my godfather died…if you died I…" I could have sworn I heard him hold a sob back.

"I…I'm sorry, Harry, but I don't think that's good enough. I'm scared, Harry, and all I want is to be with you. Please don't leave me wondering what will happen to you Harry. You mean the world to me, and if my death allowed you to live a long and happy life, then that's all I could ever want."

"Don't you see? If you die, I won't _have _a reason to live a long and happy life."

"And what do you think it will be like for me, if _you _die? I can't live a long and happy life without you, either, but I have to accept that war is more unpredictable than Ron's chess strategies, and, as much as I don't want to, I have to accept that maybe you won't make it. Please, Harry, the only way I could ever move on is if I have spent every possible moment I could with you." Harry looked at me, his eyes full of more sadness then I could have possible believed possible, and yet they were determined as well.

"I'm sorry, Gin, I can't, please understand why," he said.

"I do," I responded. I wasn't lying, either. I understood that, like my brothers, he needed to protect me, but he needed to protect me for a different reason then they did, and I knew, once I had seen the determination in his eyes, that he truly believed that what he was doing was the right way for both of us, and I knew he probably wouldn't budge on his stance. I still didn't agree with him, and I wondered if I would ever be able to understand, or truly accept his decision, but it didn't feel like the right time to get stuck in a rut. A very small, unbiased part of me also wondered if he might actually perform _better_ if I wasn't there; that his determination—and I never questioned it—to make it back to me might, in the end, protect him. It sounded reasonable, but the logical part of my brain, in a very Hermione-esque tone told me that it was stupid.

"All right, Harry, I'll agree on this course of action, but I want you to know in no uncertain terms that I do not approve. I just want to support you in bringing _Voldy _down, even if it means letting you do this on your terms."

"Thank you for understanding, Gin."

"I'm not sure I do, but I promise I'll try. I have one request though: I want to spend every moment until you leave with you."

"I can agree to those terms," Harry said softly, pulling me into a warm embrace.

"I'll wait for you," I said, snuggling into him. He kissed me gently on the nose, and then, my lips.

It was well after midnight when Harry and I broke apart. Harry needed to get to bed, and though I knew it wasn't the real reason, he said that my mother would not like it if we slept together, as I had proposed, and I knew that he was right about that, and after he had kissed me goodnight, I realized I had been a little rash in wanting that. Hermione came in a few minutes later, and sat down, not looking at me. After a few minutes, I could hear her sniffles.

"Hermione?" She turned to face me, her eyes full of tears.

"I'm going to miss you so much, Gin," she said, more tears leaking out of her eyes. She threw her arms around me, and we both sat there, crying on each others' shoulders.

"I'll miss you, too, Mione."

"I wish Harry would let you come. I want you to come," she said.

"Really?" I couldn't help the curiosity from coming out. Hermione nodded.

"You're like the sister I never had, Ginny, and I love you like one. I can't understand how Harry does it, because I want to know how you're doing at all times. Merlin, Gin, I'm so, so scared. I can't tell the boys obviously, but…oh, god, I don't want to think about it." She finished in a whisper, positively sobbing.

"Stay with me, please, Mione," I said. She nodded, and together, we climbed into bed and cried ourselves to sleep.

When I awoke the next morning, my brother, best friend and lover were gone. And all I had were three farewell cards lying on my bedside table.


	2. Allegro Con Grazia

Allegro con grazia

After Harry, Ron and Hermione had left, my whole life seemed to become surreal, if such was possible. I wandered around in a bit of a daze, not really caring what happened now. It was naïve, I know, but no Death Eater threat seemed imminent, so every day I was left to merely wander around the house feeling my heart break again and again and again. I had told Harry I'd wait for him, and I wasn't about to break my promise, but I couldn't help wondering if I were to be with another bloke…any one…Dean, Michael, Neville…it didn't matter who, at least I'd be able to shed off the unbearable loneliness of having the knowledge that the three people who are most important to me, after my parents, are all gone, fighting the most evil wizard known since my grandparents were young, and I can't even know how they are doing. I think I must be going mad, slowly and unquestionably painfully. It doesn't help that Mum and Dad are so wrapped up in the Order of the Phoenix that I hardly ever see them. For the most part, anyway.

It was a shock when Hagrid stopped by to tell us that McGonagall, who had been in charge after Dumbledore died, wanted us to go and live undercover in Muggle London.

"Tha's where the danger is," Hagrid explained to Dad, "McGonagall wants as many o' us she can spare live in London in various hideouts throughout the city, so we can keep an eye on the Death Eaters plans, an' help the Muggles tha' need us, should a Death Eater attack." We moved three days after Hagrid came to see us.

I didn't feel any different in London than I had back at the Burrow. If anything, London was worse. All the Muggles knew that something was happening, and that they were at risk, but they didn't know who or what they were at risk from, so fear, uncertainty and insecurity were the reigning feelings on any Muggle we came across. At first, Dad was clearly in heaven. He was as clumsy as could possibly be around anything Muggle, and as we lived in a Muggle city, well…you can guess. We nearly burnt our flat down our first night there, as Mum and Dad puzzled out how to cook like Muggles. With a pang, I wished like nothing else that Hermione were with us. She could have instructed Dad in everything Muggle, and she and I could laugh about his carelessness. In fact, we laughed for a good hour before we fell asleep at the Quidditch World Cup over Dad's inability to use matches. _Matches_! But of course, that was a time long ago. I didn't try to stop my tears at the memory.

After a few weeks, Mum and Dad were familiar enough with Muggle devices that we were able to cook without setting fire to anything, and we all soon mastered things like rent, the bus, reading road signs, ordering food at restaurants, etc. I was surprised at the exchange rate of Galleons to Pounds, and Mum was very happy that we were able to rent a fairly posh flat in the center of the city. But after all that had worn off, we had settled very much into a routine that didn't help me feel any better. When we accepted our mission, Professor McGonagall had given Dad a false resume, a letter that Muggles use to help them get jobs, and Dad was able to secure a job clerking for a law firm. Mum found employment at a Muggle department store, and I worked at a café on the next block. I think I was one of the few employees there who actually enjoyed the lunch rush, the constant stream of customers allowing me to keep my mind off the current state of affairs. But if there was a downtime, my happiness would vanish, as I was assaulted by the memories, worries and fears that were now a constant part of me, much as I detested it. This did not go unnoticed by my boss.

"_Mon Cher_, why are you looking so sad? What is wrong? Is there anything I can do?" My boss kindly asked one day.

"Thank you, Rene, sir, but no," I replied, smiling at him gratefully.

"If ever I can help, Gin-every, let me know, yeah?" He said. I smiled. He could not say Ginevra quite right, and though I agreed to let him call me Guinevere, his calling me Gin-every could bring a smile to my face like few other things I knew could these days, and he knew it, and would only call me Guinevere if he needed to address me in the presence of a customer. Rene truly was a sweet man, and in return, had even allowed me to call him 'Uncle' in private.

Rain fell that evening as I made my way home from the café, which was called "Francois's", and as I was walking, getting wetter and wetter, colder and colder, I couldn't help but think how much the weather was right now echoing how I felt, but for some reason, I derived a small amount of happiness as I listened to the rain hit the roofs of the city's buildings. It by no means banished my fears and doubts, but it still seemed comforting, somehow. Upon entering our flat, I saw Mum and Dad in a close embrace, looking out the window.

"Hello, Ginny, dear," Mum said, turning, having heard my footsteps, "goodness love, you're soaked to the bone."

"Allow me, firefly," Dad said quietly, and proceeded to nonverbally cast a drying charm on me, keeping his wand well hidden.

"Thanks, Dad," I said, smiling.

"Come join us, love," Mum said, bringing another chair over between herself and Dad. Gratefully, I sat down, and let them snuggle up to me, as I snuggled into them. We all were silent, which was nice. As I leaned into Mum's embrace, and continued to listen to the rain, almost without my noticing, the tears that I would not, and seemingly could not, shed since the departure of Harry, Hermione and Ron, sprang to my eyes.

"What's wrong, firefly?" Dad asked me.

"Harry doesn't love me, Daddy," I said, repeating what I had said to Hagrid. Deep down, I knew I was being ridiculous, and that Harry had assured me he _did _love me that night, but doubt had overtaken me ever since they all left, and I wasn't sure of anything, I didn't believe anything, and I didn't trust anyone anymore.

"Yes, he does, firefly," Dad responded. I didn't think I had it in me just then to tell him how grateful I was for his bluntness. It gave me a little bit of hope.

"Sure," I said, crying earnestly now, but still able to maintain my sarcasm, "he loves me, so he up and leaves me to wonder where he is, what he's doing, _how _he's doing, and though he says he loves them too, he lets my best friend and my second favorite brother go along with him." Dad stroked my hair and kissed my head.

"When Ron finally told me that he and Hermione were joining Harry on his quest, he said that Harry had to practically beg them to stay here, and keep out of harm's way, too. I can only assume why Harry backed down at let them come, and then refused to do so for you, but I think it is safe to say that Harry acknowledges that all three of you are perfectly able of making up your own minds, and that he knows that you all could face what you-know-who throws at you, but I think it all boils down to the fact that Harry probably thinks that he couldn't face life without any of you, but I'm prepared to bet that if he lost Ron and Hermione, but still had you, he could still carve out a life for himself. I suspect he fears that if he looses all three of you, he will just withdraw completely and refuse to live." I nodded.

"Come on, love, you should go to bed," Mum said. I allowed her to help me up and steer me into my room. Considering all the thoughts which were running through my head, I was surprised at how quickly I fell asleep.

_I stood on a beach in Montpelier, France, a city Rene had told me about at work. I cherished the feelings of the sand on my feet, slipping through my toes. I grinned and bit back a chuckle as I watched people swimming and little children laughing and running zigzagging courses around the sunbathing adults and in and out of the water, splashing each other._

_"Beautiful, isn't it?" Harry said, stepping up beside me._

_"It's lovely."_

_"Maybe we should buy a house here,"_

_"I'd love that."_

_"It'll be like this, someday, Ginny. We'll be able to live where the sun truly shines like it is now. We'll raise a household full of little red-haired, green eyed, and black haired, brown eyed children who will play in the water day in and day out while we risk cancer because we can't get enough sun." He chuckled._

_"Will it really be like that?"_

_"Yes," he bent his head and nuzzled it into my neck, playing with my hair and kissing me, "someday it will be like this, and we will live here."_

_"I can't imagine it. All I can see are clouds right now."_

_"Clouds can be broken up by the sun. That's why I'm out there, fighting. Because I want more sun for you and me. Because I love you."_

_"I love you, too,"_

_"Then," he said, smiling, "I will see you inside of that little cottage over there, number 55, Ruelle Plaqe._"

_When would things be that way_? I wondered as I awoke. I refused to debate the answer as I already felt like crying, and did not need an incentive to do so now.


	3. Allegro Molto Vivace

Allegro molto vivace

The first week or so of living undercover was calm. Mum, Dad and I truly had begun living like Muggles. We all went to work every day, and came home to a quick fry-up. We took our jobs seriously, though, and after he had mastered it, Dad took to watching the television every night as he ate his dinner, keeping every eye open for news. Despite everything, the first signs of the escalating war did not come from Dad's nightly retreats to the Telly, watching the local news stations.

The first thing that should have been suspicious was that two days later, when I awoke, Mum told me that all our bosses had called and said that we had the day off, but none of them had given a reason why. Dad's job requires him to get up earlier than Mum or me, so it's not unusual for me to wake up and find him not there, and so when he wasn't there this morning, I wasn't worried, but Mum was. I could hear her muttering under her breath about where he could possibly be. By the time Mum served breakfast, I was starting to worry, too. At noon, I heard the first fighter jet fly over our flat.

"What in Merlin's name was that?!" I yelped. I had never heard a Muggle airplane of any sort before in my life, and the unnaturally high pitched wail was terrifying. Mum ran over to console me, because I won't lie, I was shaking, and I would guess I was probably pale, too. Thank Merlin I had my back to the dining room window, for as Mum was cuddling me, she was the first to see the building just a block and a half down the street catch fire. I heard it, though, and I started trembling even harder, fighting my tears with all the strength I could muster. Shouts from the street below alerted us to the arrival of both the Muggle soldiers and the panicking crowds. No less terrifying than the jets was my first time ever hearing a Muggle gun go off. A few minutes later, someone was violently knocking on our door. Mum answered, revealing a Muggle soldier standing at attention, and at first glance, he appeared to be calm, but his eyes told another story. They were wide, and danced all around in their sockets, trying to look all around him at once.

"Ma'am, miss, you need to get out of the building; the street is under attack. Come, you are not safe here." He said, beckoning us. I felt foolish, plastered by Mum's side like that, I mean, I'm sixteen, by Merlin! And yet, despite how childish I might have seemed, at that moment, all I wanted to do was to follow the soldier out of the building, and then run away. From London, from the war, from my life. Mum nodded to the soldier, and we followed the soldier out of our building. He led us over to an area where many soldiers and policemen were congregating many Muggles from the buildings that had been burned, and as two policemen grouped Mum and I with the rest of the Muggles, I got my first glance at the attackers.

_Death Eaters_. And plenty of them, advancing rapidly, casting all sorts of spells left and right, seemingly untroubled by the valiant efforts of what seemed to be every armed force in Britain to stop them.

"Ladies and gentlemen," a policeman with a device Muggles called a 'bullhorn' said, "please, if you follow me, we will lead you to a place where you will be safe." Slowly, all too slowly, the group the Muggle soldier had herded Mum and me into began to move. Since we were going so slowly, we had plenty of time to observe the battle as it unfolded. There was minimum blood and actual gore, but there was plenty of things that were, to put it _very _mildly, disturbing. I thought my heart seemed to tear every time I saw another building go up in flames, or another person drop dead from Avada Kedavra, seemingly unharmed, and yet obviously dead. My stomach churned to hear the guttural screams of the dead people's loved ones. Finally, we got to the shelter, though I have no idea why the Muggles thought this place would be any safer than any other building in London—of course, they don't understand the Death Eaters. Mum and I started milling about amongst the Muggles within the shelter. I was very surprised to see my boss there, holding what appeared to be his own daughter and her twin brother. They could not have been more than three years old. The boy's head was buried in his father's neck, while the girl looked over his shoulder, the most utter look of helplessness and despair I'd ever seen. I took one look at the little girl and broke down sobbing.

"Hello, Gin-every," Rene said in a very soft voice. He was no longer the same man who had hired me. His eyes no longer twinkled, and he no longer contained his bumbling, caring and concerned manner, and looked instead like he was neither alive nor dead. I chose not to reply to him, but hugged him instead. Sobbing and feeling utterly exhausted, I sat down, and Mum came up and embraced me. We cuddled for a few minutes, when suddenly, Mum let go of me.

"Arthur!" She cried. I turned and looked. Sure enough, Dad and Charlie were making their way towards us from the other end of the shelter. Seeing them, my tears intensified. Quickly, Dad made his way to me, and swept me up in a strong hug, whispering soothing, sweet nothings in my ear.

"Oh daddy, I was so frightened," I sobbed, "I thought we might have lost you." He hugged me tighter, and then moved on to Mum. Charlie and I stood in front of each other, then, without saying anything, my brother and I hugged each other with force enough to break each other's bones, but we didn't care.

But then Dad, with a face so haunted I thought my body had been transformed into an ice cube, told us that he had been fighting with the rest of the Order, and had seen Bill and Percy die.

At that moment, I think I did become an ice cube. My tears stopped, almost instantly, and my whole body seemed to become cold. A feeling such as I'd never felt before coursed through my body; a sadness so intense that I felt pain with everything I did. It hurt to move my eyebrows, it hurt to swallow, it hurt to move, and it hurt to think. I barely noticed that Mum, Dad and Charlie were sobbing…no, bawling, screaming, roaring in almost inhuman ways…all the while, fighter jets screamed, machine guns roared their nasty rhythm, people screamed, cried, bellowed and begged for it to be over. We moved back to the Burrow that day.

The following night found me sitting beside Tonks at the Leaky Cauldron sharing goblet after goblet of Firewhiskey with her. After about my fourteenth goblet, at long last, my senses and my reason left me. I didn't care what I did right now. I think I cried a lot, made some comments that I can't remember, started thinking about one specific man…

"Ginny, what _are _you doing?" Tonks asked me in a shocked hiss, for I was stroking myself in very specific places, imagining _his _hands on my body, his tool inside my…er…

"Ginny, you're masturbating in _public_!!" I couldn't tell if she was angry, shocked, offended, revolted or amused, and to me it did not matter. What mattered was that I did something that would feel good…no, I was making a fool of myself. Though my deepest senses were reeling in pleasure, vivid images of _him_ were going through my mind, and when I should have climaxed in some form or another, I instead found myself on the floor, sobbing, clutching my stomach. I rolled over and vomited, but I didn't care, I continued to cry, rocking myself in my pool of sick. Then I felt Tonks and Fred, who had been in the bar with George, try to lift me.

"Geddoffame!" I cried, trying to throw their hands off of me. My vision swam horribly as I finally resumed a vertical position, and I was sick for the second time that night, but I managed to support myself against the bar.

"Gee mee 'nuther, please, Tom," I said in a very slurred voice.

"Oh, no, you don't," Tonks replied forcefully, "get her the largest goblet you have and fill it with water, please Tom. And you might want to spike that with the most potent hangover potion you have," she added as an afterthought. Tom obliged, and Tonks forced me to drink the water.

"Don't do this to yourself, Ginny," Tonks pleaded, leading me over to where Fred and George sat. Fred looked down at his own goblet and spilt the rest of its contents on the floor, while George eyed me sadly.

"How are you, Gin?" He asked me quietly.

"Whud you 'hink?" I said, "Never saw so much suff'ring. Don't know how Harry, Hermione and Ron 'r, can' sleep…nightmares…" Now I was starting to feel drowsy, and I knew I'd probably pass out soon. It would be welcome. I doubted that Tom's hangover potion could counteract fourteen goblets of Firewhiskey, but even so, I would look forward to drink-induced sleep, where I could not have to worry about dreaming of Rene's daughter, or the dead faces of Bill, Percy, Ron, Harry or Hermione.

Just then, Hagrid ran in to the pub. Tears were streaming down his face, running into his tangled beard, but inexplicably, he was smiling from ear to bloody ear. I scowled at him. This was not the bloody time for merrymaking!!

"He did it! Harry did it! You-know-who's dead!!"

_Yeah, right,_ I thought, and passed out.


	4. Finale: Adagio Lamentoso

Finale: Adagio lamentoso

It was over.

What was over? The war? The misery? The pain? Bloodshed? What? Almost everyone I knew was out prancing around, celebrating, saying everything will be all right again, but I sure as heck don't see any Elysian fields, when the first thing I do after learning of Voldemort's defeat is put two of my brothers six feet in the ground. Celebrations. Hah.

Bill and Percy's funeral was a quiet family affair. Dad managed to keep Minister Scrimgeour and anyone from the Ministry itself out, which impressed all of us. Both coffins were laid out in the back yard, in front of a tree which bore a tree fort that every single one of us Weasley kids used, yes even Percy. The only people to attend were me, Mum, Dad, Charlie and the twins. Dad and my other brothers were shaking with suppressed sobs, while Mum's grief was far beyond tears. She had lost two sons in one blow, and I've never seen Mum look so helpless, fragile and vulnerable, and in that moment of shared grief, I felt closer to her than ever before. She bent down and kissed each of her sons in a final goodbye, and told them over and over how much she loved them.

"You were the world's greatest git, you know," Fred said to Percy's coffin, "I can't think of a time our family was more upset than when you walked out on us, and I know I may never forgive for it, but –" he choked on a sob "– you're still my brother, and I know that…I'll miss you."

When I came over, I kissed my brothers, like Mum had done, but I kissed Bill on a very specific spot on his cheek that I'm pretty sure only I know about, where he is severely ticklish, as I discovered one day when I was three, playing cat, and "cat kissing" him (which meant I was licking him in a lame imitation of a cat) and he dropped me as he squealed with laughter as I hit that spot. I had landed on my bum and when I told him it hurt, I'd never seen a boy so ashamed of his actions. It was cute, and I will always cherish that particular memory.

Percy, on the other hand, has always been one who could evoke a world of different feelings in me. He was always a bit of a prat in school, and he was such a figure of authority that he rarely was aware of anything outside of rules, and the thought that someone he respected and admired could possibly do anything that was as minor as bending a flexible rule, or doing something worthy of spending time in Azkaban, was just not possible, even if the evidence of it being very possible was staring him right in the face. But he was the only male in my life who ever braided my hair. Oddly enough, I think he was the only one who _could _have braided my hair, since he _wasn't _a eager risk-taker like Bill or Charlie, and _doesn't _have a sense of humor, like the twins, or a love of Quidditch, like Ron or myself, but he _did _possess an amount of concentration, due to the fact that he was a stuffy authority figure who was worse than Hermione, to braid my hair, and I will never forget how his touch was every bit as gentle as Mum's, and the finished product was every bit as good as hers. I ruffled his hair as I kissed him. Fred was right; he had hurt us all when he left us, but I still loved him, and whispered it in his ear, hoping that, wherever he was, he knew that his sister still loved him, and would be forever grateful for that day in her bedroom when she was seven years old and he had so obligingly braided her hair.

I walked away from Percy's coffin and sat down beside Mum, burying my head in her shoulder, and cried. She cried with me, and we were joined a moment later by Dad. We would be forever a close family, but it would not be the same.

I so wanted to be happy after the war, but it just didn't seem possible. I had lost two brothers, and had not heard a word from my boyfriend, best friend, and the brother who was closest to my own age and my heart. I had a picture of how the whole war would end, and this wasn't it. I was furious at myself for hoping to end in a Cinderella fashioned fairytale, and yet, after everything that Voldemort had made happen for my family and everyone I held dear, I wanted more than anything to have my life end in a fairytale.

After Bill and Percy's funeral, life began…for the most part. It was life free from terror, darkness and insecurity, yes, but while everyone else celebrated endlessly, my family grieved. I won't say that we were the only ones who suffered terrible losses, that would just be selfish, but I will say that we were one of the more involved families, who had all but adopted the man who was fated to bring Voldy down.

It was three days after the funeral that he came back.

I saw him first. Dad and I were sitting on lawn chairs facing the back garden, looking at it but not really seeing anything. Both of us were completely lost in our thoughts. Thinking had become a popular pastime. Then, suddenly, my peripheral vision caught movement behind a tree, and I turned. Dad hadn't seen anything, or so I assumed as he continued staring down a gnomehole. I turned, however, at the movement, and saw the emerald eyes of my boyfriend. We locked eyes, but didn't move. It was surreal.

"Ginny?" Harry croaked. At this, Dad turned too, as I ran towards Harry, throwing myself into his arms. Dad grinned broadly at us, and obligingly left us alone.

"Oh, Harry, I missed you so much. I was so scared," I said, feeling close to tears, "I needed you."

"I needed you, too, and I missed you so much." He kissed me time and time again. I responded eagerly, matching him for intensity and feeling. I kept murmuring his name over and over again, unable to believe how lucky I was.

"I love you, Ginny," Harry whispered, "so much."

"I love you, too, Harry, and more than that." He chuckled. A few happy tears fell down our faces.

"Now," I said, grinning to rival the Cheshire cat and getting up, offering my hand to help Harry up (the force of my embrace had knocked him over), "let's go find my prat of a brother and his girlfriend and go hit Hogsmeade!" Harry looked down, suddenly; the twinkle in his eyes, if it had been there in the first place, was gone. Harry's shoulders started to shake, and with a start, I realized he was crying.

"Harry?" I said, puzzled.

"Ginny…Ron…and Hermione are…are…oh, buggery _fuck_!! They're dead!" Harry began to sob, muttering an endless stream of profanities under his breath. I sat down, shock coursing through me.

"No, no, Harry, you must be mistaken," I said, starting to panic, "for bloody Merlin's sake, Harry, tell me it's not so!" He nodded affirmatively, his sobs doubling in intensity. It was so. I looked up at the stars and started to cry. I hadn't wept this hard even for Bill or Percy. Harry and I enveloped each other in a bone breaking hug and wept unashamedly on each other's shoulders. How do I describe what it was like? There, warm and assuredly in my arms was the man I loved, but dead and never to return was my brother and my bookworm best friend.

"No, no, no!" I wept, "Ron! Hermione! Why? Why did you? Dammit all!"

Who knows how long Harry and I cried, and frankly, who cares?? Fuck a fairytale ending to the story.

"Harry," I said through my tears, "how did it happen?"

"Please, Ginny, I can't bear to relive it all," Harry said.

"Please, Harry," I pleaded. He shook his head.

"Please."

"I can't."

"I want to know how my favorite brother and sister died!" I growled fiercely through even more tears, "I loved them more than life, and I deserve to know how they died! Please, I need to know."

"All right." Taking huge steadying gasps, Harry sat down on the lawn chair that Dad had vacated.

"_We had just finished finding the final Horcrux, and were ready for Voldemort. The only thing was we had no idea where he might be. You know what Hermione's like, she immediately began looking at all the sides of the issue, trying to look at everything from a logical standpoint. We must have spent a good two hours puzzling it out, when a Patronus came out of nowhere and alerted us. It was Kingsley's Patronus, and we were told to apparate to London at once._

_When we arrived, it was to find ourselves in a sea of dead Muggles. Hermione knew where we were, which was good, cause Ron and I certainly didn't, but Hermione said we were near where she grew up, and wanted to check the bodies for the bodies of her parents. Luckily, after a good two more hours of looking, we were able to verify that they were not there, which gave Hermione some hope, which was good._

_That was when we noticed the battle itself. Voldemort and several of his followers were on the street not far from where the bodies were. Ron was the one to puzzle everything out this time, using his chess skills to riddle it out, but before any of his plans could be put into action, it seemed that Voldemort had a magnetic attraction to us, for he apparated in front of us, with Crabbe, Nott, Goyle and Lucius Malfoy, who had Hermione's parents bound and gagged. Malfoy conjured up two columns and Nott fastened Dr. and Mrs. Granger to them._

_"What do you think, Mudblood?" Voldemort said, "what do you think of your parents now? I suppose as a girl you must have thought them strong, invincible and trustworthy. You foolish little brat, parents are not strong, invincible or trustworthy. Come, dear, and let me teach you how to right things. Come on, I know you love to learn." I don't think I've ever seen Hermione so mad. She just stepped back and glared at them._

_"Come on, Mudblood, you'd be doing them an honor." Hermione shook her head and mumbled something about what was truly honorable to her parents. Voldemort shook his head._

_"Tut, tut. Nott, kill the father first."_

_"Avada Kedavra!" I don't know how Hermione could possibly stand by like she did as her father slumped lifeless against that pillar. She was so strong, Ginny. I couldn't look at her mother. I've never seen someone look so sad, helpless, hopeless, lost and yet proud at the same time._

_"Avada Kedavra!"_

_"Crucio!" I couldn't believe it. Hermione had used an unforgivable curse! And it worked, too, but in the end, it didn't matter. Voldemort was ready._

_"You really are daring, aren't you, Mudblood? How dare you cast such a noble curse?! Ah, but of course, that is beside the point. Mudblood, step aside and give me Potter and I may let you go. You too, blood traitor."_

_"Never," Hermione said icily._

_"If I die helping Harry win, then I will have lived a good life." I admit, I didn't know what Ron was saying at first._

_"Say your goodbyes then," Voldemort said sarcastically, "no one has said I'm not merciful."_

_"Wha…Ron…what are you two…doing…no! You can't!" I had said, finally understanding._

_"Quiet, Harry. I will always be your friend, you know that, but if my death means that you can stop this bastard, well then…that's the way things are. Sometimes life really is like chess, Harry." Ron said_

_"I will do anything for you, Harry. I always have and I always will." Hermione said softly. The two then arranged themselves in a wall around me._

_"Hermione," Ron said as he looked down at her, pressing into her body and taking her hands in both of his, "I love you."_

_"I love you too, Ron," Hermione said, her voice breaking for the first time. I saw Voldemort raise his wand as she was speaking._

_"I love you both!" I shouted._

_"We love you, too, Harry," Ron said. Just as he was hit, he and Hermione had managed to kiss. They died in each other's arms._"

Harry's sobs broke out anew, and I crawled off of my lawn chair, and snuggled into him, sobbing along with him. We fell asleep on the lawn chair together.

The most difficult thing I've ever done in my life was tell the rest of my family that Hermione and Ron had died. Mum's grief was horrible. She looked like she had become a shell, empty of life and soul. Dad had banged his head against the wall, sobbing, until finally Charlie had pulled him away, and had gotten us all the biggest carafe of Firewhiskey ever seen. I'd never seen the twins honestly sob, but they were now, violently, unashamedly, and not in the least bit false, crying on each other's shoulders, and I realized that the twins' teasing was their unique way of showing their love, and they had teased Ron more than any of us.

The funeral was one of the most difficult things I'd ever been to. It had been so quick that I'd just attended the funeral of two other of my brothers, and that only days afterward, I was attending another funeral for another brother. Hand in hand, Harry and I approached the front where we all sat, watching Hagrid, who we all agreed should officiate the celebrations.

"We are here to celebrate the life of Ronald Bilius Weasley and Hermione Jane Granger," Hagrid said through his sobs, tears running unchecked down his face, "the wizarding world may well remember them as heroes who died to give Harry Potter a chance to defeat Voldemort, but to us, they will be always and forever be the beloved son, daughter, brother, sister, couple, and friends that they were, and to them I toast. Thank you, Ronald Bilius and Hermione Jane, thank you for being our son, daughter, brother, sister, and friend. Thank you for being born." Hagrid barely managed to coherently say the last part, dissolving into the horrible, painful grief that had consumed us; I couldn't hear anything other than sobbing. Neville Longbottom was in the row just behind us, sobbing beside his grandmother who looked sad and scared. For the first time since I knew her, I saw color in Luna's cheeks and tears in her eyes. Fred, George and Lee Jordan had formed in a circle embrace, hugging, comforting each other and praying. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan were in the row behind Neville, and both were fighting a loosing battle against their tears for a lost roommate and friend. Parvati and Lavender were there, too. Parvati was weeping a river, but Lavender, I was incensed to see, seemed relatively unemotional. I just managed to get up and follow Harry to Ron and Hermione's coffins.

"Ron, you were my first and my best mate," Harry said gruffly, "and I will never forget the times and the adventures we shared together. You will always be my brother, and I will never forget you. Ever. I love you, brother." I approached his coffin as Harry made his way over to Hermione. My sobs had stopped, but tears still flowed down my eyes.

"Hey, brother. I'm not going to be as good as Harry was in eulogizing you, because I don't know where to begin; I don't know what adventure that you and I shared is the one I'll remember best. I will always remember when you would talk to me about Hermione. Oh, Ron, I loved talking girls with you. Not because I really could offer advice, well not as good as Mum can, but I _loved _seeing you blush when I got to talk to you about the female body. You always knew how to make me laugh without meaning to. What about the first time you told me that story about the knight, the princess and the huge spider, when you were four and I was three? We had some damn good times, Ron, and I'm going to miss them. I'm going to miss you.

"I remember how proudly you declared to us the summer of fifth year that you were so certain that you would win Hermione in the end and that you would carry on the Weasley tradition with her. I never told you how excited I was at the prospect of nieces and nephews. Just remember, Ron, to always treat the woman with respect and love, and make sure to let her have her say. I love you, Ron, and there won't be a day that goes by when I won't miss you." I ended on a half laugh, half sob, repeating word for word, one of the things I had told Ron when we did talk girls together. I moved on to Hermione, and as I looked down at her, my sobs came back. I'm not saying that I necessarily loved Hermione more than I loved Ron, but before you go away screaming bloody murder, remember that a bond between two women can be a special thing, and I certainly had a special bond with Hermione that I did not have with my brothers.

"Oh, Hermione," I sobbed, looking down at her peaceful face, "what am I going to do without you? Who am I going to talk boys with? Share all my girly secrets to? Please don't leave me, Hermione, please! I remember when we first became friends, how you said you envied me so much, because you didn't have any friends prior to coming to Hogwarts. I never had any true friends, either, Hermione, before you. I will never forget the times we did things together. We talked together about our first periods together, we talked about Ron and Harry together, called them gits together. I will always cherish the times we danced together, and cuddled together, for no particular reason…well that was what we said then. I know the reason now. You're my sister, Hermione, and my best friend and soul mate. I love you and miss you with all my being. Oh, and tell your parents hi for me up there, will you? Goodbye, Mione, I will never forget you, or stop loving you." Tenderly, I kissed Hermione, and then my brother, rejoining Harry, burying myself into his warm embrace.

"How are you?" Harry asked me softly and concernedly. His eyes are still puffy and red, and the tear tracks are still fresh, but he also looks almost relieved.

"I'll be okay with time," I responded. He nodded.

The rest of the ceremony went relatively smoothly. A Bagpiper came in and played a lament while Harry and I stood in front of Ron and Hermione's coffins and said the spell that cremated the bodies. After the coffins were replaced with marble urns, Mum and Dad carried Ron's urn to his grave, while Harry, the closest Hermione had to a living relative, carried her urn to her grave beside Ron. We cast the ashes into the graves while Hagrid sang a lovely hymn that he said Dumbledore taught him when his own father passed away. We covered the graves, said our final farewells, and left.

As Harry, Mum, Dad, Charlie, the twins and I headed back to the Burrow, the sun was setting, and I couldn't help but notice how the color was a flaming red, like Ron's hair, but the light mixed with the clouds to give off the look of bushy brown hair mixed together with red hair. I smiled. For the first time since the war ended, I smiled. It would take a long time, but we would be okay. Harry would later say that Ron and Hermione were the _true _heroes of the war, who died to give us all a chance at a happy life. He's right, but then, we all are.

THE END


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